[DUPLICITY] Christmas Morning Drabble

[cicatrize]

Jack Benjamin sleeps like the dead.

In the war, it'd meant he could get good rest in just about anywhere - on a cot, in the back of a jeep, in a crevice in a trench, halfway up a tree so long as he was belted securely to the branch, silent and still, not even a snore or a wheeze. in duplicity, it means, on christmas morning, after he's passed out between steve and bucky in bed, the both of them can slip out at differing times, detangling themselves from his limbs and slipping out into the penthouse. For all the bustling that goes on in the house after that, Jack remains sound asleep in bed, still bundled up in Steve's undershirt, Bucky's pj pants, and Will's socks, snoozing the morning away. A day off work is not to be wasted on celebrations he doesn't give a crap about.

The rest of the penthouse doesn't seem to share the sentiment.

First, it's Steve:

"Come on, Jack, it's Christmas."

He gets a grunt in return, Jack not even lifting his head to reply.

Then, Bucky:

"Jack. Presents. Get up."

A pillow dragged over his head.

Natasha:

"Got Bailey's for the coffee. You're missing out."

"Save some." Because, of course, it's the booze that gets the first real reply, but still, not enough to rouse him.

Will:

"Does David have any food allergies?"

"Hell if I know."

It comes back around to Bucky, never one to keep trying to make the same old tactic work, and there's no question or attempt to lure him out of bed with bribery. Instead, he marches over, hooks his arms underneath jack's waist where he's laid on his stomach among the blanket and pillow nest he's constructed, and hoists him up like a rag doll, tossing him over a shoulder.

"Come on," Bucky tells him as Jack flails, letting out a loud whine that informs the entire penthouse jack Has Been Awoken. "Time to pay tribute to the Holy Murder Donkey, so we don't get stomped for our sins."

Holidays weren't meant for familial bonding in the mansion of the royal Benjamin family. It was meant for photo opportunities, publicity, building a sense of morale and nationality in the citizenry. With no obligation in Duplicity to play the dutiful son and soldier, temporarily home from valiantly and proudly defending his nation on the front, Jack sees no reason for him to be up and active for a holiday he barely even comprehends, let alone has any reason to celebrate. the entirety of his new adopted family seems to disagree, most of all Bucky. Let it be known, Jack Benjamin was not dragged into consciousness without a fight.

"I don't care about the Jesus donkey, I care about sleep."

"That's exactly what the virgin said right before her baby got stomped." Bucky marches them into the living room, Jack entering ass first, and deposits him abruptly onto the couch, Jack bouncing a couple times before he settles.

"It's not," Steve scoffs, setting down a plate of fresh bacon on the coffee table in front of them, which Bucky immediately grabs three pieces from. "No one got stomped, stop telling him that."

Once Steve turns away, Bucky leans over with mouth half full of bacon to stage-whisper to Jack (currently pulling his legs up against his chest and attempting to curl into an egg against Bucky's side, finding a new warm place to pass out). "Don't listen to him, he's still wrestling with that religious crisis."

"Truly tragic." Jack grumbles, though it's difficult to tell if he means Steve's religious crisis, or the way Bucky's wedging at him with an elbow to sit up straight and get eating so he can wake the hell up. "If you want me conscious, stop inhaling all the bacon."

Defiantly, Bucky takes another large chomp of bacon, and Jack scowls at him, flipping to his other side, where Steve's seated, and more willing to let Jack burrow underneath his arm and curl up against his ribs. Thankfully, Will's not far, placing down another plate of bacon Jack immediately snatches a few strips from before Bucky can devour it whole.

"It's either the story of a prophesied Messiah birthed to a virgin, or an overweight, geriatric in red velvet breaking and entering via chimneys with gifts." Will informs, and Jack squints at him like he's the craziest fucker in the room.

"Which both sound more ridiculous, and less entertaining, than the holy murder donkeys." And that is what Jack bases his holidays on, clearly. "Isn't this one of Steven's holidays, anyway? I'm Judah."

"Jewish." Steve supplies.

"Jewish, minus the donkey candles."

"There aren't any donkey candles."

"As the only other near-Jewish person in the room, Steven," Bucky corrects through a mouthful of bacon, "I think that makes me the authority, thanks."

"Why are you trying to split me up with my brethren, Steven?" Jack mumbles from somewhere against Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah, Steven."

"You know what, Jonathan?" Steven starts, shaking his head, with an exasperated smirk, as he pries Jack off his side to roll him back towards Bucky, "I'd hate to come between you and your rich donkey culture, so how 'bout you go back with Elder Buchanan there."

Jack lets out another whine, struggling to get back to Steve's warmth, but half-asleep telekinetic is no match for super soldier, as it stands. He rolls, flopping against Bucky's metal arm, frowning something fierce, but this time Bucky lifts it to allow him to tuck into his side, wrapping over his shoulders and underneath an arm to grip his side and give him a sharp tug to sit up. Jack starts to grumble, and like giving a pacifier to an infant, a mug of coffee spiked with Bailey's immediately finds his hands. "But can you guess the true meaning of Chrismukkah?"

"That's not even a real-"

"Shh, Catholic."

"Eating everything in sight, getting shitfaced, and later, vomiting from over-eating and poor life choices?" Jack guesses.

"Yes." Bucky answers definitively, "And, familial bonding through holding each others' hair back while you puke."

"Ah. Finally, a holiday I'm good at,"

"Drink up, kid." Bucky tells him, pressing a bacon favored kiss to the top of Jack's ruffled head. "You're on puke duty first.""